Love Will Tear Us Apart
by tyory
Summary: Clint and Natasha have been partners for years now. The two are comfortable in their lives now - even after New York. But what's to become of the two when people from the past start coming back to haunt them?
1. Chapter 1

**Big thanks to my Beta reader, PansyParkinslut. And the dialogue at the end, I borrowed the idea from this lovely post, so credit goes to her 3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Marvel related, unless you could my merchandise ;)**

It dropped like a complete bomb. No one saw it coming. No one _could_ have seen it coming.

* * *

Natasha walked out of the mission debriefing with Clint by her side, as usual. She barely even paid attention to how close he stood. It was naturally now, the way they stood close together 90% of the time when they weren't on a mission. She used to hate to close proximity all the time, just because it felt natural, not forced, even then. Even when she didn't know him. It was still as natural now, but she'd grown fond of it in a way.

The pair rounded the corner and came face to face with a frazzled looking Steve, a smile half turned on his lips and hair mussed up like he'd been sleeping on a couch for too long. His whole appearance screamed "just-slept-on-a-couch-all-night".

"Agent Barton, Romanoff." He gave them each a nod of his head. Natasha was surprised, he usually addressed them by their first name, and she easily noticed the smile that he was trying to suppress as he spoke to them.

"Where ya off ta Cap?" Clint asked before Natasha had the chance to ask him herself. Steve usually found them first and asked how the mission went, inquiring if they wanted to do something, playing cards, watching a movie, and so on. The three of them had grown reasonably close, she supposed.

"Uh…" This caught the assassins' attentions. Steve wasn't one to lie, but that didn't mean he wasn't incapable. He let out a soft sigh, the edges of a smile still tugging at the corners. "Well a recent comrade of mine was brought into SHIELD and they're getting ready to release him today. I promised I'd be there." His eyes had a certain sparkle to them that Natasha couldn't recognize. "It's Bucky."

Clint was the first to react of the two, recovering quicker from the minor confusion. "That's great Cap!" He said with a clap on the back. The assassin had already joined his friend in grinning from ear to ear while Natasha stay reluctantly quiet. It took her a moment to fully process everything before reacting, a smile forming on her lips.

"I'm happy for you, Steve." She kept it simple, not too overly dramatic, nothing of the sort to be honest. She might have been happy for the guy, but she wouldn't let that show so much. It didn't feel right, showing emotion. It simply felt like a weakness. Steve nodded fervidly. He bounded off to go find his friend, leaving Natasha and Clint to their peace.

"It's good for him." Clint said after a little while. "To have a friend. One from his own time, it'll be a connection to the closet thing he 'ver had for a home." It was amazing how a bunch of people who never knew meaning to the word home could find it with each other the way the avengers did in the mansion. Natasha nodded.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." Natasha yawned, stretching out her limbs. She looked over at Clint, lifting a brow. "What about you?" She asked lightly. His usual mischievous smirk rose to his lips.

"I dunno yet, darling. Why so curious?" He drawled out. The archer walked around to stand behind Natasha. He ran his fingertips up her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. "Is there something you needed me for?" He whispered, pulling back to brush his lips over the nape of her neck.

Shivers and goose bumps were sent across her skin with each breath he inhaled and exhaled. "I don't need anyone." She said breathily. Clint chuckled behind her, laying fresh kisses across her skin. "Fuck it." She growled spinning around to grab him, wrapping her hand around his neck, pulling his lips to hers.

* * *

Natasha woke up the next morning before Clint. He was in another one of his famous "deep sleeps". They were rare, especially after New York and Loki, but somehow, when she slept by his side, he fell into the sleep easier. Natasha slipped out of the bed, tip-toeing lightly about the room trying to find her various articles of clothing. At best she slipped her panties back on, as well as her bra, but as for her pants and shirt, Natasha had no idea where they'd disappeared.

She grabbed one of Clint's faded grey t-shirts and tugged it on. She walked casually to the kitchen. The mansion was filled with early risers, but Natasha knew every schedule of the home's residents. Clint and herself had the next couple days off until their next mission; Bruce was going to see Tony at Stark tower; Thor was seeing Jane for possibly the sixth time this month; and undoubtedly Steve would be busy with his friend.

Turning the water on for coffee and grabbing the eggs Natasha started on her way to making the two of them breakfast. She enjoyed cooking. It wasn't something she got to do often, but when she did, it reminded her how much she missed it. She wasn't an amazing chef; Clint probably cooked better than her, but eggs – eggs she could make.

She finished plating the eggs on a plate, running a hand through her hair. With a sigh, she grabbed the plate and cups of coffee, turning to make her way back to Clint's room. But as she made her way down the hall, she stopped, tilting her head to the side as she saw someone approaching. Biting her bottom lip she prepared herself to make excuses, but knew it would be futile. But to her surprise, the person that rounded the corner would have been the last on her list to see.

One of the coffee mugs tumbled aimlessly from her hands, shattering against the floor. "J-James?" She stumbled. And sure enough, when the man with dark chocolate hair looked up at her, she was met with the brown eyes that melted her n the inside, just like she remembered.

"Tasha?" Clint slurred as he stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes lightly. As soon as he noticed her staring at the man in a soldier clad, he wrinkled his nose and frowned. Taking minimal strides to reach her side. The man was gazing at her in completely confusion and desire.

"Na-" He started but frowned, the frustration obvious in his face. "Do I know you?" He breathed out after a moment.

* * *

His fingers moved reflexively, drumming away on the table to fill a silence that had never been awkward before. Clint had been sitting patiently by her side for a few hours. Neither of them really moved from the spot at the table.

Natasha had been brought in, Fury talked to her alone - refusing to let Clint anywhere _near_ the area until he was done with her. Then the two quietly walked back and sat down at the conference table.

"So who is he?" Clint finally tugged from his lips, edging out the question that had been itching in the back of his mind since she'd seen him. _The New Soldier_. Who did the guy think he was anyway? Staring at Natasha like that. Clint had to suppress the protective growl that grew in his chest.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice was deadly silent, cold and decisive. "He doesn't remember anyway." Sure he didn't _now_, Clint thought, but soon enough he would. Everyone in the damn labs did, god he hated 'em SHIELD scientists.

"Look, M'not trying to pry, Tasha, and I know you can take care of yourself…." He looked away from her, glancing at the door. Waiting - no, hoping, someone would come in and stop him from continuing to talk. "But if there's something wrong, you can tell me. I'm your partner."

"So was he."


	2. Chapter 2

**"Translated from Russian"**

** Hey everyone! Just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the follows. It means a lot to me to know that you all care about it 3 Wanted to thank my Beta reader again (pansyparkinslut), don't know what I'd do without her!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the avengers or anyone in this story... SIGH.**

* * *

The next few days Natasha stayed silent about the New Soldier. Neither of the assassins were allowed near him. It infuriated Clint. He wanted so desperately to find out who he was to Natasha. He wanted to know what he _did_ to her.

Ever since she'd seen him, she'd been jumpy around Clint. The slightest brush of his fingers over her bare skin, and she would practically leave the room. It drove him insane. Sleeping together wasn't that strange an occurrence for the two of them; often times Nat would slip into his bed and they would keep the terrors away from each other. _Sleeping_ together on the other hand... That didn't happen as often. But since the Soldier, they hadn't even spent a night in the same bed.

"'Tasha," Clint leaned over and whispered in her ear. She turned and looked at him with a strange expression, undoubtedly because he was ignoring the movie. The Avengers took turns picking movies on movie night. Clint had picked James Bond for the evening, hoping it would help cheer him up. He loved every James Bond movie there was; to say he was mildly obsessed was to put it nicely. "Y'alright?" He drawled. Her nose wrinkled just slightly and eyebrow tugged up microscopically. No one would have seen these changes in her expression; the small slip ups in her mask. Only Clint - at least he hoped it was only him.

"I'm fine." But everything about her said otherwise. Clint was angled just slightly towards her; she on the other hand was curled into herself, legs tugged neatly under her body, arms folded over her chest. Her tone was tense, lips pursed. He edged closer to her, daring a glance at Tony who had a momentous smirk on his face as he stared openly at the two of them rather than the movie consisting of gorgeous women, cars and guns.

"Talk to me, 'Tash." His voice was gruff, pleading almost. He hated this feeling. He couldn't explain it. Maybe he felt excluded from her life. Maybe a little part of him - a part that was bigger than he'd like to admit - truly cared about the woman beside him. His fingers reached up to brush one of her fiery locks away from her face, but before his hand could even get close enough, one of her own dainty hands snatched his wrist away holding it out it front of him, twisting lightly. Clint let out a growl and yanked his wrist back. "Jesus, 'Tasha!" He snapped.

With a huff, Clint turned his attention back to the movie, shifting on the couch to get away from her. Even the movie couldn't cheer Clint up at this point. All he wanted to do was help, but apparently, this idea was entirely too absurd for the Russian assassin at his side. Several more minutes past and Clint began to relax into the movie, his body sliding easily into its comfort zone as he watched James Bond stroll magnificently through yet another casino. He felt a soft warmth land on his thigh, just above his knee. His eyes flicked down to look at his leg and noticed the feather light hand. A small smile spread across his face. He shot Natasha a thankful glance; happy to see she wasn't shutting him out completely. His hand found it way to the popcorn bowl and the archer ate cheerfully.

He felt her hand tense for a moment then disappear from his thigh altogether. Clint looked over and saw a rare clouded expression covering her face as she looked off, away from the screen. He followed her gaze to the door, and before he even had time to fully register who it was, she'd stood and left the room, exiting out the door that wasn't blocked by the new comers.

"Capsicle! How good of you to join us!" Tony chorus from behind. "Wait who's that?" He asked looking around the person beside, but slightly behind Steve. "I haven't seen you before, Soldier." His words caught Clint's attention, his eyes snapping away from where Natasha left to Steve. "Come on in, sit down, stay awhile, watch a movie, join the crowd." For the second time of the evening, Clint would have gladly punched Tony Stark square in the nose. The soldier, it was him. The _new soldier_. "So what do we call you, soldier boy?" Steve was grinning like crazy, practically blushing from excitement. No way, Clint thought.

"Ah-" He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. "Bucky, I guess... Bucky Barnes." And then all the pieces fall into place. Well not all of them, but now he knows who _he_ is, or part of his history. Bucky, or _Barnes_ as Clint would prefer to refer to him as, looked at the door. The door Natasha just left out of. "Excuse me." He said quickly and followed her steps.

As soon as the doors shut behind him Clint yanked himself upright, grumbling as moved to sit beside Tony.

"So what's up with Barnes and Nobles over there? Why'd he follow red? They know each other or something?" Tony fired off the questions almost faster than Clint could keep up with. Steve just shook his head and joined the two of them for the movie, obviously put out by the fact his best friend just scrammed from the sight of his new friends, off to god knows where- not that Clint was complaining. He just didn't like the thought that he was with Natasha. _His_ Natasha... His partner. Why was he thinking like that? They were partners, nothing more.

Clint settled into his seat, more uncomfortable than before. Tony had drawn Steve into an in-depth conversation about JARVIS and the new directives he was working on for the AI. The only ones left watching the movie was a grumpy, popcorn hogging Clint and an over excited and oblivious Thor.

* * *

"Wait!" Bucky called down the hall, the redheaded girl close to turning the corner. She stopped on her spot, but made no attempt to turn around. Bucky took a few advancing steps towards her. He was curious, she was so familiar, so,_ so_ familiar. He couldn't place her from anywhere in his life, but then again, he could barely place anything. There were still gaps, holes in his memories that he couldn't fill. "Natalia, wait!" He called again. _Natalia_? Where did _that_ come from? Even from the distance he could see her body stiffen. She looked over her shoulder at stared at him with wide, confused eyes. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He didn't know her, or at least he didn't remember knowing her. His head fell in shame; he wished he could remember her.

When he looked back up at her, the stoic mask had returned to her face. She took one last glance at him before turning back to continue down the hall. Bucky felt a weight fall on his chest, a sharp pain right through his heart. Before he even had the chance to think about what he was doing, he took off after her, chasing her down the empty hall. He snatched her wrist and pulled her back to him. Any normal girl, one of the ones he would have taken to the Stark Expo, or dancing or any number of things back then, would have just fallen into his arms. But this woman wasn't like any of them. She was tough, cold, deadly, but throughout all that, entirely too familiar. She twisted her hand in his grasp grabbing his own wrist and pinning to the wall she pushed him onto. Her other hand moved just as quick to grab his free hand, the metallic one, the one he still wasn't sure just _how_ had gotten on his body, and pinned it to the wall as well. Bucky moved to escape, but as if she were reading his mind, she moved in perfect counterbalance. Instead of his hands being pinned beside him, they were now behind him as his chest was pushed further onto the wall.

"**Come on, James. You should know better than to sneak up on me.**" She purred off, in thick smooth Russian. Her breath was completely steady, completely unfazed. It was as if all of this was normal for her. He took a moment to take in what she was, _where_ she was. She had to be some kind of trained killer. That or a freaking superhero. The prior seemed more likely. She fought hand-to-hand combat, no glowing hand of magic to metal hand.

"**Get off me.**" He grumbled. The woman blinked, trying to mask her shock, but somehow Bucky saw right through it. He could tell her emotions even behind the schooled expression. She took a step back and released him. She made no attempt to leave this time, just shared at him with eyes mixed with frustration and confusion. Bucky got so lost in her eyes he hadn't even been attention to what he was saying. He'd spoken so fluently in Russian. Sure, him and Steve picked it up back in the day, that is by picked it up means he learned a few words - enough to keep them out of the dark. But this was different. He'd not only understood her perfect but responded easily. All in a language he wasn't aware he knew. The worst part of the entire situation still had yet to hit him.

He moved his left arm, letting the metal move and warm up. He clenched his fist and gave the woman a tight nod, turning to leave. She was dangerous. And not just because she was a paid murder. He took to steps before be heard her voice. Clear in his mind like every other sound was just simply drowned out when she spoke. "James, wait." It was a quiet plead, the softest whisper. And there it was again. His name. Not his nickname, not the name everyone knew, his _name_.

He spun around quickly and stared wide eyes at her. "Stop calling me that! How do you even know my name? I don't know you. I have no idea who you are. I've never seen you in my life." He growled lowly. It wasn't a threatening growl it was scared. Bucky was terrified. Not of this woman, but by the fact she was so _damn_ familiar, yet he couldn't remember a single thing about her. Nothing. She did nothing but keep her blank mask. He reached forward and grabbed her wrist, forcefully this time. He wasn't just playing around. He watched something flicker in her eyes… Pain? He couldn't tell. She covered it too quickly for him to figure it out. She slid her wrist out of his grasp easily, opening her mouth to try and respond.

"No!" Bucky snapped. He grabbed her waist and slammed her back against the wall. The motion was far too familiar. His breath hitched in his throat and somehow, again there was nothing but her. Just the two of them in the entire universe. Her breath was coarse, heavy. "What is it about you…" His voice trailed off. He couldn't form the words. Their faces were close, close enough he could feel the heat of her breathe on his cheek.

"James…" She whispered. "I know you don't remember." She swallowed and looked away from him. She was struggling with this, Bucky could tell. "I know you don't _want_ to remember, I wouldn't either." She bit the inside of her cheek, lightly, barely visible. "That's why I don't think we should see each other. It hurts to know you… To know you…" Her voice kept catching on the same word. It was frustrating her not to find the right words to say. She was the type of woman who lived off the perfect sentence for everything. There it was again. He was remembering something about her even though he didn't even know her – or at least he didn't think he did.

"To know I don't remember you." He finished quietly for her. Bucky could understand that. Being forgotten sounded terrifying. It was worse than just losing someone. Having to live knowing you stopped _existing_ – at least in their mind. It was obvious they once meant something to each other. He longed to know what that was like. What they shared. She shook her head gently. Her fiery curls bouncing around her head. They used to be so much longer, he thought almost sadly, remembering another thing about her yet again. Just who was she? "Then what?" He prodded. "If not my forgetting you, than what hurts so much?" She looked up at him with big wide eyes, water stinging the edges.

"I thought you were dead."


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again wanted to thank my beta reader! Love her to death. Her comments on the chapters always make me laugh. Also thank you to everyone reading and reveiwing, it means so much to me 3 Hope you enjoy this chapter ;)**

* * *

Clint glared over at Thor. "But I do not understand, Hawk-friend." It was growing in Clint's mind just how sheltered the god's life was. He was called an idiot numerous times, and only claimed it was because he didn't understand human technology and references. Every week after the movie, even if he picked it, he would find someone to ask his multitudes of questions.

"It's just a movie, Thor." He grit out between his clenched teeth. Clint never regretted watching a James Bond movie. The only thing he regretted this time was letting Thor watch it with them. "Not everything that happens in movies 's real, in fact 90% of 'em are fake. The only time they're ever real is when it's a documentary." The thunder god's face contorted with confusion. They'd watched a few as per Bruce's request but that didn't seem to affect Thor's memory. Clint rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"A… Doc-you-meant-air-e?" He asked slowly. The archer threw his hands in the air and started to walk away. He could not, or more accurately, would not deal with him. It was worse than talking to Steve. "Wait! Hawk-friend! Do not leave me! I have more questions!" Clint stormed a few feet further before coming to the stop. He let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped. He spun back around jaded and bored, but mostly feeling bad for the god. He nodded, signalling to ask a few more.

Thor's face brightened as he all but leapt over to Clint. "What about the Bond man. He is like you, yes?" He asked excitedly. Clint couldn't help but let the smirk tug at his lips. There was no man alive who wouldn't want to be compared to James Bond. Clint was no exception. James Bond was as close to an idol as Clint got.

"I suppose I am." Clint grinned. Perhaps talking to Thor hadn't been such a bad idea. If he compared Clint to James Bond more often, conversation would not only be palpable, but welcome as well.

"So then you have female companions like him? Is Lady Natasha like that to you?" He asked Clint, his face more curious and serious. Within the next few seconds a certain thunder god had been punched in the nose, an archer broke his hand, and then vacated the room.

The now past grumpy and angry Clint walked out the further door of the room, stalking down the hall. He examined his red, shaking hand. He'd dealt with much, much worse, but that didn't change the fact it still bloody hurt to punch a god in the face. Clint was focusing so much on how he was planning to bandage up his aching hand, he didn't even see the red faced Steve walking quickly towards him.

"Oof!" Clint gasped as he collided with the super soldier. Steve's eyes went wide and the blush on his cheeks on seemed to redden with the embarrassment.

"Clint! I didn't see you there!" He mumbled in a quick tone. He extended his hand to help the archer up. "I'm so sorry, my mind was… uh elsewhere I guess." Again, Clint noted, Steve's cheeks were a deeper red. Why was he so embarrassed? Clint stood up easily and brushed himself off with his not-so-broken hand.

"What's up, Cap?" Clint asked, raised his brow. "You feelin' alright? You look a lil' flushed." He stepped a little closer to him, walking around the super solider, examining him more carefully. Steve started fidgeting, shifting on her spot.

"I uh er- I should really get to going..." He mumbled quickly, avoiding Clint's gaze. He was avoiding the question again. Embarrassed, avoiding questions; where did it all this lead? He leaned closer to the spangled soldier and quirked a brow. "Cap-" Clint started in a low tone, trying not to sound angry, but stern enough to get him to talk. Though, he was quickly interrupted by the once again red faced Steve.

"I'msorry. Ididn'tmeantoandshewasjusthereand-" He spoke so fast Clint could barely pick up any words from his sentence.

"Who?" He finally spat out, after spending a minute deciphering what exactly he was trying to get at.

"Natashaand…I-uh." Steve looked away from Clint. "Sorry." He said quickly, giving him a curt nod and then ran off down the nearest hall. He didn't have to worry about the archer chasing after him; he was too distracted by the name that'd just passed from his mouth. What did Natasha have to do with Steve? Clint's mind was working overdrive trying to figure out what the super soldier had been trying to tell him.

A few beats later, Clint took off down the hall. And just as he expected, as he whirled around the corner he found Natasha. What he hadn't expected was the flush on her cheeks as she spun around to face him. The way her hair was just a little too messy for Natasha, the woman kept her hair meticulously perfect, even after sparring or on an op. The way specific places in her clothes were not wrinkled per say, but… _different_.

And then it clicked in his mind. As many people thought Clint was an idiot, it wasn't _that_ oblivious. He was picking up all the details in his mind and noticing it all. The flushed cheeks, slightly swollen bottom lip, messed up hair, blushing and fidgety Steve; it all added up to something. Although he wasn't in a relationship with Natasha he couldn't help the swell of jealousy that spiralled through him. She could sleep with anyone she wanted. And if she wanted to sleep with Captain freaking America, it was up to the two of them. But _damn_ was Clint going to let the Captain have it during their sparring session tomorrow morning.

"Clint?" She asked tightly. "What are you doing here? Is the movie finished already?" She asked softly. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting him to show up and catch her in the act. That sparked something else inside Clint. It wasn't jealousy. It was anger. How could she not tell him? She told him practically everything. Sure Barnes was an exception to that, the two of them were still a mystery to him, but Clint didn't want to make that a habit. He liked being the one she came to talk about things. The one she, the black widow who trusted no one, truly trusted.

"Don' worry 'bout it, darling. Just passing by." He mumbled lazily, using his drawl to cover up his emotions. "The movie ended a few minutes ago. Had to explain some things ter Thor, but s'about it." He shoved his hands into his pockets, wincing inwardly at the pain that shot through his broken hand and rocked back on his heels lightly. A silence fell between the two of them and once again it was awkward.

"Oh and I ran into Steve." He said smoothly. And damn if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he wouldn't have believed it, but Natasha tensed. He saw it, blatantly obvious – at least to him. "I've got to go." He said quickly, brushing past her towards the elevator.

"Clint wait-"

"See ya later… Natasha." It just felt wrong for him to use her nickname.

* * *

**A/N: Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? It gets better, just wait.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, sorry this chapter took so long! My beta reader and I are both during exam-cram season, but we're just about done. After that I'll be free for a while, so expect new chapters after that! Thanks to all the new followers, love you all.**

**Disclaimer: still the same.**

* * *

It was early, five forty-two to be exact.

The knock on the door didn't wake Steve, but it was what finally forced him to rise from his place on the couch. As he walked towards the door, he massaged his neck muscles, trying to release some of the tension built up from sleeping on the couch. He swung the door open and forced himself to blink and make sure who he was seeing on the other side of the door was actually who he thought it was.

"Natasha." He mumbled, struggling to find words to say to her. To say he was confused by her arrival would be putting it lightly. He was baffled as to why the redhead would need to see him so early in the morning. Surely whatever she had to say could wait for later, couldn't it? "What can I do for you, Ma'am?" Steve tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Natasha nodded inside, a gesture the two had used before. Knowing exactly what she wanted, he stepped aside and granted her entrance into his room.

She slipped easily into the room, walking straight to the mini-kitchen each room was equipped with. She let the water into the kettle and started the pot of coffee. She did it all with ease, as if she belonged in the room she was making coffee for. Eventually she slowed down, and lacking something to do she finally turned to the silent Steve, perched carefully in his chair, watching her go about. He simply raised a brow at her. Needing nothing more to prompt her, she got onto the reason why she was visiting him so early in the morning – though Steve was fairly positive he knew one reason she would have to be at his room so early.

"Did you forget something here last night?" He interjected quickly before she had a chance to open her mouth. Steve thought that maybe for a moment he saw a flush of rose cross her cheeks, but he could have just as easily imagined it. It was a reasonable enough assumption. After spending the night somewhere one would assume it'd be easy to forget something when leaving stealthily at approximately two thirty-eight. Granted, she mostly likely wasn't aware of the fact he knew _exactly_ when she left.

"No." She said cautiously, as if watching what she was saying to him. Then again, he knew the assassin well enough to know that she was. It's what she did, calculated her every word. She flicked her hair off to one side and crossed her arms, levelling her stare with Steve's. "I came to talk to you… About yesterday… About last night… About _Clint_…" Her voice trailed off. He wasn't sure how to place it; he was never sure how to place anything with Natasha. He couldn't tell if it was acting or not.

He quickly collected his thoughts and blurted out the first thing that tumbled into his mind. "I didn't mean to." He looked down, away from her piercing eyes. "Tell Clint I mean." A soft click made Steve look up. He instantly regretted that decision. Natasha was staring at him, expressionless face as usual, except for her eyes. They were slightly widened and had a wild, terrified look to them.

"You-" He watched her jaw tighten and her eyebrows contort into a worried expression. Natasha Romanoff was clearly one who didn't struggle with words very often. "You told Clint?" She asked briskly, sounding more like a statement than a question. Steve simply nodded, giving her an apologetic look.

"I didn't really mean for it to happen, I swear. He came out of no where and he kept asking questions." Steve frowned as he thought back on the memory. "Well I suppose I didn't tell him everything… Just what came out." Natasha blinked quickly. He expected her to give him the same expression as before and maybe act worried again, but instead she simply turned and started making the coffee. She pulled out three cups, laying them in a perfect row. She poured a cup for Steve, one sugar – just how he liked it. He'd never told her how he liked his coffee, yet somehow she just knew. Then again, that was her job.

She gave him the cup, which was just a little too hot for Steve's tastes, and turned back to get her own. He held the cup lightly in his hands, doing his best not to burn himself. He looked back up at her and watched as she leaned against the counter and blew on her coffee. The room was suddenly filled with the overwhelming silence. Neither of them spoke up at first, Natasha stood comfortably sipping at the coffee in front of her, whereas Steve grew restless by each passing second. Surprisingly enough though, Natasha was the first to break the silence.

"So are you going to put on a shirt or…" She asked as she lifted a brow at him. By that point Steve was all too aware of his bare chest as he looked down to confirm the lack of clothing. Natasha simply shook her head and let the tiniest of smiles tug at lips. "Don't worry about it, you've got to get downstairs to meet up with Clint soon anyway." Steve gave a curt nod and stood up, more than ready to vacate the room as quickly as possible. "Uhm Steve… Before you go, one question?" He simply tilted his head to the side and waited. "Where is… _he_?" Realization tumbled over Steve. Though he didn't understand everything still, he understood bits and pieces, enough to paint a picture for himself.

"On the balcony."

* * *

Clint swung hard. A lot harder than he would have usually with the Captain, but he knew he could handle it damn if he didn't let out some of his rage. His fist collided with Steve's forearm, thankfully it was his good hand – the other was lazily bandaged up and tucked tight to Clint's body.

"Hey Clint-" He was cut off as another fist went flying towards his head, forcing him to duck and avoid contact. "Whoa there." He stood up slowly, raising both his hands, palms spread in a surrendering gesture. "What's up with you today… you've got a lot more… uh- pent up rage?" He asked clumsily. "I don't mean to be offensive or anything it's just…"

Clint drowned out the ramblings of the super soldier. Instead he just stared at him. The blood pumping in Clint's ears muted his voice. Without a second thought, he swung while his opponent was distracted and landed a punch square in the jaw.

"Damn." Clint hissed, grabbing his hand. He'd been so focused on punching the guy to make him shut up he hadn't even been paying attention to which hand he was swinging about. He looked down at Steve, crumpled on the floor grabbing his jaw.

"What was that, Barton?" He asked, the edges of anger seeping in. It wasn't out of place in Clint's mind – he sort of deserved it really. Keeping secrets from him, sneaking around with Natasha. Clint rubbed his hand a little and narrowed his eyes.

"You know exactly what this is about." He growled before turning on his heel and exiting the training mat they were standing on. "'M done for the day." He grumbled, walking out of the room all together.

"Barton, wait!" Clint heard the voice behind him call. He didn't want to talk to Steve – not right now. He already hated himself just a little for punching him like that. It was a damn dirty shot and Clint knew it, but he couldn't help but take it, his rage got the better of him. And even in knowing that, the still didn't want to apologize to the captain. So naturally, the archer walked quicker in an attempt to get out of the training room and away from the person behind and ran into the last person he wanted to see at this point – Natasha.

"Clint." She huffed as she stepped back from the two of them. He watched her take in his appearance, looking him up and down. She was doing it again, that thing where she examined him to check if he was okay. Like a mother might have to a small child. "Where are you going?"

"M'going out." He growled. She quirked a brow at him and pursed her lips, obviously displeased by his reply. He let out a breath of air, and just as he was about to explain to her they were oh so _rudely_ interrupted.

"Clint wait I- 'Tasha? What're you doing down here?" Steve asked as he appeared behind Clint. He didn't even care that the soldier followed him at this point; it was what he said. 'Tasha. That was _Clint's_ nickname for Natasha, no one else used it, and Natasha usually never did. But she made no effort to stop him at this point.

"Well I came down to talk to Clint, but maybe we could discuss something after?" _Discuss_ – yeah right, Clint thought. He fought the urge to turn and punch Cap in the face again when he heard her speak up again. "Steve, what happened to your face?" She'd obvious noticed the dull marks on his face, not to mention the split bottom lip and bruise on his jaw – which granted was already faded thanks to the stupid super soldier serum. He wouldn't sit through all of this. It was humiliating and he hated just being in the room as the two of them. He pushed passed Natasha, ignoring both their calls. He didn't want to talk. Not right now. He made a mental note to talk to Natasha later, but he'd rather see hell freeze over than stay with the two of them.

What was so bloody perfect about damn Captain America anyway?

* * *

**A/N: You guys loving this as much as me?**


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